The Calm before the Storm
by analivia calcasuus
Summary: In the year after The Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort stays ominously quiet with only a few whispers of his presence here and there... However, these 'whispers' are about to intrude on Harry's life, and no-one knows as yet just how much...
1. Default Chapter

Chapter One Life had never been anything even remotely near 'easy' for a boy called Harry Potter when in the Muggle world. Even after his exit from this world, unpleasant returns occurred every year for the Summer Holidays. Right now, Harry was nearing the end of one of these ill-fated annual occurrences, and looking forward passionately to the day when he might be reunited with his friends, and return to what he called 'home', Hogwarts, his beloved School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This summer had been noticeably event-free, in comparison to the last few years, Harry reflected lounging in a few spare moments on his bed. This was certainly relating to his absence from Privet Drive from eight till five every working day lifting and carrying for 'Truck it Qwik' furniture Removal Company. Petunia and Vernon had objected to the loss of their orphaned nephew every day primarily for the sake of being perverse, as Harry knew they would rather die then admit he was a help around the home with all the work he did throughout the holidays. Harry had argued that he'd be off their hands all day, and that he'd be earning money to help support himself in their house, to obtain their permission. They took him up on this offer, which Harry had made in another attempt to convince them to consent in his desperate need to be rid of Privet Drive, and now charged him for his maintenance. This, however, didn't concern Harry in the least, as he still made a small amount of money to pocket, and as he was in no need of money after finding out that he had a small fortune in Wizarding money left to him by his parents after they had passed away. This mount of golden Galleons was kept in Gringott's Goblin bank, well protected by every magical means possible from the tight-fisted Dursleys. For Harry, this was a blessed relief from his relations for nine hours a day, meaning he never had to encounter his titanic bully of a cousin in the mornings (always a touchy time), and a chance to have an allowance in the Muggle world for the first time. This source of income also came at a very fortuitous time as Dudley was still on his diet, attempting to reduce his whale sized lower half and fit into the Smeltings Knickerbockers. He had scraped through the past year in two pairs that Petunia had altered to fit his mammoth bottom, with them splitting on a regular basis with any slight physical exertion. Harry had dived behind the sofa when he learned this, struggling to even muffle his choking laughter. Later when alone at the table with a scowling Dudley, he expressed out loud his wonder that they had ever split at all, with the amount of physical activity Dudley never did if he could help it. Dudley had lunged at him, splitting the new pair of 'extra baggy' slacks he wore, at which Harry had another laughing fit, stumbling upstairs to his room before he drew the wrath of his Aunt. When he was not lifting chairs and televisions, Harry retreated as far as was possible in a small bedroom in Privet Drive, to the world of the Wizard, owling Ron and Hermione, and even once or twice Seamus, Dean and Neville; working at his Essays, and even doing a little extra, which would have shocked his friends. although pleased Hermione greatly after the initial shock she received after receiving an owl from Harry asking about the Demon Debacle of 1706 (Harry now owled his friends everyday, having received his Birthday present early from Hermione when parting at platform 9 ¾, an "owl disguiser - perfect for avoiding curiosity about your owl in muggle districts! " apparently it hid your owl from all non-magic eyes, which effectively avoided any orders to lock Hedwig up during his stay with the Dursleys. To Harry, any contact with Magic was a blessed relief; even studying his textbooks, from the terrible drudge of life at the Dursleys where 'magic' was a bad word. Harry was now sitting on his bed, the newest edition of Quidditch World lying open on the bed, and several weeks worth of the Daily Prophet stacked in the corner of his room. Harry took full advantage of his ability to use Hedwig during the summer, ordering daily copies of the Wizarding Newspaper, and several Magical magazines. These papers Harry read from cover to cover, looking for news of Voldemort's unofficial return. So far, reports on a few minor disasters from other parts in the world were the only evidence, and even this could only be seen if you read between the lines; And Harry knew who would. Perusing today's Prophet, there was nothing in particular. at least, nothing so fantastic that the insidious reporters had wanted to write about it. Harry had had some bad experiences with a reporter named Rita Skeeter in his Fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament It was she who was namely responsible for creating the false belief in the general Wizarding World that one of his best friends Hermione was actually his girlfriend, and that he still cried nightly about his past. These articles had been committed to memory by Harry's archrival Draco Malfoy, Slytherin extraordinaire, who had spent the whole of last year quoting them for cheap gimmicks at any and every opportunity around him. There was mention, a few pages in, of a Wizarding school being destroyed by an Antipodean-Opaleye misjudgement (they were known to be friendly, harmless dragons. or at least as 'friendly' as any dragon could be, in Harry's opinion of the beast) in far-away Australia, but Harry did not see how this could have a dramatic effect on the precarious situation as it stood, especially as no one had been in any way injured. Still, he didn't know anything about Australia other than the fact that it was much hotter than England, its people had funny accents, and they had weird jumping, climbing animals. He might ask Sirius what he thought about it in his next letter. A tapping noise startled Harry from his thoughts, followed by his Aunt Petunia's shrill voice commanding him to come and set the table in the dining room for the dinner party that night. Harry had been cleaning all Saturday as Petunia had been cooking, for Vernon Dursley's large and very important work dinner they were hosting about structural redevelopments in his Grunning's Drill company. If this deal went as planned, it could mean a lot more money and power for Mr. Dursley. Personally, Harry couldn't give a hoot whether Vernon gave a good impression or not, but if not Harry knew that somehow, it would be traced back to him. No fault ever lay with the Dursleys. Trudging down the stairs, Harry proceeded to spend the next 3 hours arranging flowers and forks, polishing silverware and folding napkins. He had to redo the entire table arrangement (seating eight) three times before Petunia passed it, and even then she dismissed him with a wave of her hand, while adjusting one wine glass. This year, the Dursleys were so afraid of Harry creating some disaster during the important occasion again that Vernon was delivering Harry to the Leaky Cauldron a week in advance of the departure of the Hogwarts express, well out of the way of catastrophe. This suited Harry immensely, and he now tossed the last few spell books into his trunk before slamming it shut and bringing it down stairs ("Mind you don't mark the polish!") to the boot of Vernon's company car. Harry thought it best not to test his uncle's nerves by letting the owl-cage rest in his sight, so it was stuffed in the trunk, and Hedwig was dispatched with various letters, to rendezvous back with Harry at Hogwarts. This year, Harry arrived at the Leaky Cauldron Wizarding Pub in a much more orderly fashion. There was no Minister of Magic waiting in the doorway, and no Knight Bus, but then, there wasn't a wanted criminal recently escaped a maximum-security prison, either. Harry pulled his things out of the car and Vernon quickly drove off without a backward glance, but this didn't cause the least bit of concern for Harry, it was what he was accustomed to. Harry staggered into the dimly lit pub and made his way over to Old Tom at the Bar. The usual fascinating selection of magical beings were placed around the room, but not staying to chat, Harry quickly received his room key and proceeded upstairs. He was pleased to find himself in the same room as he was in the last time he stayed at the pub, but then wondered if all the rooms here did not look the same, with the same view, as in magical residences you could never trust you were in the same place twice. Harry flopped on the bed, blissfully appreciating the pleasant room and the lack of obligation to do anything whatsoever. In time, we unpacked his things and descended once again into the dining area. "Nice to see you back again, Mr. 'arry." "Glad to be back, Tom." Harry responded to the barman's greeting, sliding onto a vacant stool. "Can I get you anything?" "Er. " Acknowledging his thirst, Harry realised that he knew very little about Magical beverages, and had no acquaintance with anything but Pumpkin Juice. Sensing his dilemma, Tom placed a vibrant green bottle in front of him. "What is it? What a colour! I'm scared to try it!" "It ain't no worse than any muggle liquids around.Taste much better though!" Tom said with a sly grin. "Go on, its what most young wizards an' Witches 'round 'ere drink." Egged on, Harry downed the alien liquid, and found it very pleasing indeed. "What was that, Tom?! It tasted like. Cherry and Avocado! A really weird combination, but it worked!" "You's spot on, Mr. 'arry, they're called ''igh Flyers' made by the same people 'o make the Jelly beans, if 'm not mistaken. Your's was 'Avocado and Cherry with an 'int o' caramel', as I make 't. There's thir'y seven other flavours, too." "Well in that case, I believe I've found my entertainment for the next week." Harry said with a wide grin. "Couldn't 'ave suggested anything better to do meself." Tom smiled toothily, then slid another bottle, this time yellow, down the bar towards Harry before going and serving another customer. Finishing his drink, Harry slipped from the stool and entered Diagon Alley, still with the zing of sour grape and coffee on his tastebuds. 


	2. Diagon Alley

Chapter Two  
  
Harry ambled down Diagon Alley, soaking in the delicious feeling that finally, he was back in his own world. Reaching Florean Fortescue's Ice- cream Parlour, he ordered a large strawberry and peanut butter sundae afloat in marshmallow sauce with the small amount of Wizarding money he had left from the last school year, and contemplated the weeks ahead. Two weeks with no homework and no Dursleys. Sobering, Harry reflected that this time, he was being shadowed by something much worse than any grim. As Cedric's face floated involuntarily to mind, Harry's good mood departed, and he finished his sundae with the slightly haunted expression that these days seemed never far away. Florean himself then came bounding out of the Parlour, and helped push Harry's unhappiness away by way of reprimanding him for not coming to visit him last year, although Florean knew how much of a fuss everybody had been in over the World Cup being in England, so it couldn't be helped, then congratulating him for his plans to spend the coming weeks within a stone's throw from the Parlour, then reprimanding him for having completed all his History of Magic homework already, which Harry thought was a change for once.  
  
Harry set off up the Alley much cheered. First things first, he headed to Gringott's, the finest Wizarding Bank in England. Run by Goblins, and as exciting as a roller coaster every trip. There were over two weeks of holidays left before the Hogwarts Express left, so Harry wasn't expecting to see any of his schoolmates, and the queues in Gringotts were minimal. Harry was soon whizzing down to his vault of galleons.  
  
Resurfacing, somewhat heavier, Harry headed straight to Gambol & Japes Wizarding Joke shop to fill whatever space he had left in his trunk. Then Harry decided to go to Madam Malkin's for his new dress robes he'd be needing for the 'senior social events' calendar thrown for Fifth years and above. he was not looking forward to it. Ron certainly wouldn't want to shop for this particular article with him after last years' debacle, and Harry would not go robe shopping with a girl, not matter how good a friend Hermione was. Looking at all the different colours and styles, Harry was overwhelmed. It had been much easier when Mrs. Weasley had just chosen robes for him. He supposed he couldn't wear Gryffindor scarlet, as was his first impulse, because he'd look too much like he was in his Quidditch robes. In the end he just decided to go with a different style of green. from Parvarti's looks and Hermione's comments, he supposed he'd looked alright in the colour last year. Sifting through the various robes on the hangars, Harry suddenly heard a familiar voice speaking in the row behind him. Another voice, a girl's, was saying cajolingly:  
  
"You are NOT getting another black one! Green, blue. anything but black Sev! How about purple? Look at it, it's your colour!"  
  
Then the voice Harry knew:  
  
"Dear girl, Slytherins DO NOT WEAR PURPLE!"  
  
That voice had sent shivers up Harry's spine many a time, and but for the Dark Lord himself, was possibly the most evil Harry had ever heard. This time, however, it did not hold its usual sting, but was simply gently mocking. Amazed, Harry leant forward through a rack of feathery yellow robes to peer at the pair, and find the reason for such an altered tone.  
  
The girl was still talking.  
  
"I can't possibly wear all these, put it back. no not mmphh mmph mph!!" The rest the sentence was muffled as Snape dumped yet another robe onto the enormous pile the girl was already holding . smiling.  
  
In shock, Harry fell forwards through the robes, landing in a cloud of yellow feathers. The girl stared at him in surprise over the top of her mountain.  
  
Snape looked shocked. his expression rapidly turning to rage.  
  
Harry sneezed.  
  
"POTTER!!!" Snape's furious yell was suddenly drowned out in the hilarious laughter of the girl beside him, and his expression disappeared, his face looking closed. Harry was too dazed to do anything but stay where he was. Recovering herself, dropping her robes, and with her eyes still laughing, the girl spoke.  
  
"Harry Potter himself. and what an entrance!" 


End file.
